A Duke for Delilah (The Swan Sisters Book 4) by Jillian Eaton

Author:Jillian Eaton [Eaton, Jillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-12T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

By her own admission, Delilah was not a good dancer.

The waltz was too fast.

The minuet was too slow.

All the rest were too confusing.

It was why she’d taken to bringing a book to the ball. The pages and the text within provided as much of a diversion as they were a dissuasion to anyone who might be bored enough (or desperate enough) to ask her to dance.

Except the book hadn’t worked on Silas. A disappointment, to be sure, as he was precisely the sort that it should have worked on. Men like Silas–tall, dark, handsome, conceited–rarely noticed wallflowers like her. Put a book in her hands, and she might as well have donned an invisibility cloak…if such things existed.

But not only had he noticed her, and not only had he snatched her book away (the sheer audacity!), but he’d asked–demanded, really–that she join him on the ballroom floor. Then stared at her in tense silence with his arms pinned to his sides.

She’d been on the verge of walking away when he forcefully yanked her against him–a possessive movement that had thrilled every bit as it annoyed–and began to move with the music, both capable and confident as he led her through the complicated series of steps.

When she almost stumbled, he was there to steady her. When she lost her balance, he set her back on her heels. And when she trod on his instep (maybe a little bit on purpose…as retribution for poking fun at Lord Chesterfield), he merely lifted a brow and slid his foot out of the way.

“You’re trying too hard,” he told her, his voice a warm slide of velvet across her cheek when he bent his head low. “Relax, Miss Swan. Move to the music, don’t try to make the music move to you.”

“Easy for you to say,” she groused even as a shiver of awareness made its way up her spine, tickling along her vertebrae like the lightest of caresses.

“And why is that?” he asked, the corner of his mouth curling in what only could be described as a devastatingly crooked smile.

“Because you’re you.” They passed another couple, and she narrowly avoided giving the man a black eye with her flailing elbow. “And I’m me.”

“Is there something inherently wrong with you that I should be made aware of?” He ran his fingers down the length of her arm, pausing at her elbow to softly nudge it inward. “It’s not contagious, is it?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Clumsiness is not a disease. My limbs grew too fast when I was a child, and it never gave my mind time to catch up. I am also easily prone to distraction.” As if to prove her point, her gaze flicked to the far corner of the ballroom where a swan had waddled inside and was being chased by–

“Look at me,” Silas ordered gruffly, taking her chin between his thumb and index finger. Exerting gentle, but firm pressure, he turned her head back. “Only at me.”

She looked.

Eyes wide, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, pulse fluttering madly, she looked.

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